Stuck
by imdeadsothere
Summary: Draco's desperation turns deadly, and only one person can save him, the problem is, that person died two months ago. NOT SLASH. ONE-SHOT.


Draco didn't bother to talk when he entered the common room. He just walked right past everyone, up the stairs, and into his dorm.

Throwing his book bag on his bed he pulled his trunk out from under his bed. Digging around inside for a minute he found what he was looking for. It was a present someone had given him when times were better. A pocket knife.

Draco flipped the knife out. He placed the blade against his skin, about to apply pressure when a voice interrupted him.

"Is it your birthday?" Draco was on his feet immediately, whiling around to see who was there. Someone sat in the corner, the shadows of the room obscuring their face.

"What do you want?" Draco growled, slipping the knife into his pocket. That would have to wait.

"I was only asking, is it your birthday?" The figure replied calmly. The voice was strange, Draco had heard it before but could place no face to it.

"Why?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Because someone left you a present on your bedside table," The voice replied. Draco turned. He hadn't noticed the package before. It was wrapped up in newspaper, but after grabbing the box and taking a closer look, it was obvious whoever had done so, did it with care.

"Who the hell are you?" Draco asked, turning back towards the figure and tossing the package on his bed.

"Aren't you going to open it?" The person asked, ignoring Draco's questions.

"After you've answered my question," Draco replied.

"Well, if you really must know," The figure stood up. Draco could see their body better, now that it got more light. Whoever it was wore the standard Hogwarts uniform. They didn't sound like a Slytherin either, Draco spotted a small crest on the robes of the person. It was the badge for the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. The Gryffindor Quidditch captain was Weasley, the only problem was that this person sounded nothing like Weasley.

The person took a few steps forward. Placing themselves in better light. Allowing Malfoy to see the face of the one and only Harry Potter. The one that had died two months earlier.

Silence enveloped the two boys.

"Are you a ghost?" Draco asked. Though Harry Potter did not look transparent, white, floating, or any of the characteristics attributed to ghosts.

"I wish," Harry mumbled. "No, I'm not a ghost, and I'm not alive either, what I am, is stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Yes, stuck," Harry held out his writs. Draco looked down at them. Blood still dripped from the deep cuts on his flesh.

"You didn't think I'd go unpunished, did you?" Harry said. He put his hands down.

"How did you get those?"

"These?" Harry held up one of his arms, placing a cut up wrist in full view for Malfoy to see.

"I gave them to myself," Harry replied, "Just like you were about to do before I interrupted," Harry put his hand back down.

"You, did that to yourself?"

"The ministry did a pretty good job with cover-up didn't they?"

"You mean, you killed yourself? But…"  
>"But everyone said some angry death eater snuck in and killed me while I slept, they did do a good job with cover-up, the saddest thing about being famous, you can try to make a stand with suicide and nobody gets the message,"<p>

"What did you mean when you said you were stuck?"

"I meant what I said, I'm stuck here on earth, not dead, not alive, only a few people can see or hear me, it's my punishment for murder."

"Murder?"

"Oh yes, I murdered myself."

"Oh, it sounds worse when you say it like that."

"And before I forget, would you so kindly hand that knife over," Draco pulled the knife out of his pocket and reluctantly handed it over to Harry. Wondering if Harry would be able to grab it. He could, and he took it and slipped it into his own pocket.

"Now that that's settled, just one last thing before I go, stuck people can talk to other stuck people, There's a young Mesopotamian girl here, you don't want to get stuck, it's permanent," Harry turned and walked swiftly out of the room. Draco stood there for a moment, staring after him before collapsing on his bed. It was then that he remembered the package.

Taking the box in his hands Draco carefully unwrapped it. It was a box of chocolates. There was no card, whoever sent it either wished to remain anonymous, or was to shy to admit that they would waste their money to buy a box of chocolates and send it to Draco Malfoy

Draco didn't kill himself that night.


End file.
